Clever
by Daniel Wesley Rydell
Summary: "Down on your luck, missin' the riches and fame of the big city, hm?" Gerad meets a bartender who seems to know far too much of that which he tries to hide.


He met her weeks after he'd assumed control of the thieves gang. She said her name was Clara Oswin; the family name having tickled his memory of a family of wealthy traders out of Nikeah. A drop of the fact got a twirl from her, a cute smile, a swish of hair… in other words, all distractions but no answers.

She gave everything of herself, yet nothing of herself. In a world of destruction and constant fear, she was a shining sliver of hope for the people of Nikeah. She made souffles which were filling and dirt cheap, since (as she once told him) people were starving, and she wasn't one to keep food out of their stomachs. She seemed to make every single person who came in the door feel like they were the most important person in the universe, which, to Gerad Farigo, made her the the most impossible girl in the town, if not the world in general.

She'd caught his attention when she had first met him, because of the first words that had come from her mouth. He'd ordered a flagon of ale, and she brought it to him, then sat down in front of him to chat. He'd glanced around; the room had a few stragglers, but for the most part? The two were alone.

"Down on your luck, missin' the riches and fame of the big city, hm?"

He looked at her, shrugging. She had no way of knowing his secret; she was just being a friendly ear, as any bartender would. She waved an elegant hand in front of her face, momentarily distracting him.

"Sorry, was just thinking about how they hadn't found Figaro Castle yet, with Kefka shooting at anything that looks like a threat to him. You sounded like a native."

He'd cut his hair, used every skill he could think of to hide his heritage and identity, but he couldn't hide his accent. (He'd tried; it sounded ridiculous.) He gave her an easy smile to hide his discomfort, but she appeared not to have noticed, only answering his smile with a knowing smile of her own.

"I'm sure Figaro will turn up. Their king was a resourceful man, as I recall. Do you suppose he stayed with the castle?"

Her words cut through his defenses, sending him reeling. How did she know the secrets that he kept hidden for these traumatizing months? Did she know his true identity, or was she simply making conversation? He decided to press on, trying to find out what she knew, or what her game was.

"Maybe. Maybe he ran away, scared because he couldn't help his people."

She shrugged, meeting his eyes with a leveled ease that few did.

"You think he was scared?" she asked, a curious frown on her face, furrowing her beautiful features. "I've never met him, of course, but anyone who would tangle with the Empire like he did would have to be brave. I heard he supported the Returners, going so far as to take up arms with them. Sounds to me like he was, or is, quite the brave leader."

He'd had no answer to that, but his curiosity kept him going back to her. The next time, she'd encouraged him to try to change things up, which had led him in the direction of the thieves gang. That had been his first line of investigation.

After all, what good was a runaway, coward king? Gerad (he flinched as he even thought of the ruse of a name) wasn't sure. He didn't think that he would be able to help them. They had submerged the castle the day that Kefka had unhinged the world, he was sure of it.

But, he was too afraid to find out. He hid his intentions, but he told Clara as such.

"Afraid? You lead a gang of ruthless thieves. If you're so interested in what happened to that castle, why don't you take them and go find out? Buy some shovels, start digging out the Figaro Desert."

He'd laughed at her, but bought shovels that day, if only because the silly thought gave him hope. Digging a castle out of a large desert was impossible, at least, not without either earning Kefka's (very) unwanted attention with the use of heavy machinery.

He'd heard that Mobliz had learned that lesson the hard way, a searing beam of light from the madman's tower decimating their town. He'd had no interest in finding out if the story was correct.

Another time, he'd been concerned about his brother, and his friends. He'd heard hide nor hair of them since the world had been decimated by Kefka's machinations, and again, he confided in her his worries, if only because she was someone that seemed to be trustworthy.

At least, she had earned his with her (seemingly) supernatural intuition.

"A lot of people have family they're still looking for. You don't have a gravestone for your brother?" she asked him candidly. He'd found that he appreciated that about her.

"I don't, my dear. I haven't heard any tales of his death. He disappeared that day, and I've been looking for him and a few other friends since," he replied.

"Were you close?" she pressed, though her expression showed no ill-will.

"He had been gone for a number of years, and through some unusual circumstances, we were reunited. I…" he paused, composing himself before continuing, "... would hate to find out after being separated for so long that he didn't survive when we had just gotten reacquainted."

She seemed lost in thought for a moment before she spoke again. "I understand that. I've been looking for someone for a while, but…" she trailed off.

After a moment, he spoke up. "Miss Oswin?"

She didn't immediately respond, her eyes starting to moisten. A moment passed, and she took one of her hands to wipe away the tears that had started to form.

He smiled. "Clara, who are you looking for? My resources are vast. I have associates all over the world. Diplomats who will kneel to hear my words. I would give you the skies if you required them."

She fixed him with a glare, and it was in that moment that he knew that she knew.

"How long, Miss Oswin?"

She averted her eyes from his, shaking her head and beginning to wipe down the counter in front of her. "How long what?" she asked quietly.

He fixed her with his own steely glare, one that had once faced down enemy generals and even Kefka himself. "How long have you known who I was?"

She smiled as she continued to clean. "Of your identity? Since you told me the first time you entered my bar, Mister Farigo. Perhaps I misunderstood you, King.." she paused, brushing her hair out of her eyes and she looked up at him, "... of thieves."

He didn't answer, looking away from her. She stopped cleaning, and moved around the corner to sit next to him.

"I've heard tales of the King of Figaro, you know," she started, meeting his eyes easily. She reached out and grabbed his hand, beginning to stroke the top of his gloved hand with her thumb. "I've heard stories that he saved Narshe from an invasion-"

"-helped-"

"-and that he and some other members of the Returners flew after Kefka and the Emperor to try and stop what happened. Put all their lives in danger. It's… so strange, you know? Who does that? How does someone decide to step away from their throne, not to protect just their own people, but every single person in the world?" she asked, her eyes drilling into his.

The gaze took his breath away, scrambling thoughts and jarring emotions loose that he wasn't sure moments before he could feel. Words stumbled out of his mouth, quietly, before he could stop them.

"I… had to do what was right."

She kept stroking the top of his hand in an almost hypnotic rhythm. "I know, my clever king… I know."

* * *

After Kefka was slain, and the world had started to return, the King of Figaro stepped foot into a small tavern in the port town of Nikeah. A smiled curved his lips as he saw the brunette bartender busy cleaning a mug, her back to him.

He sat down as quietly as he could at the counter. Then, he leaned towards her.

"Down on your luck, missin' the riches and fame of the big city, hm?" he asked, imitating her as best as he could.

Clara turned to him, her face brightening with a smile. "My clever king has returned!"

She came around the counter and wrapped her arms around him. He embraced her in turn, and kissed her forehead.

"My dearest Clara, I promised I would, didn't I?"

* * *

 _This has sat in my g-drive for… almost two years. I just finished it tonight._

 _Partially, I feel as though it isn't finished, but… I love it the way it is. :) Feel free to review, friends._

 _Until next time…_

 ** _-dwr_**


End file.
